


Name Calling

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Tea and Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo Challenge #135</p>
<p>[prompts: "neck", "short", and a picture of a red rag http://pics.livejournal.com/draycevixen/pic/001rq37y  ]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>March 2012</p>
            </blockquote>





	Name Calling

"It's that Irish booze of Murphy's," Doyle said moodily. He rubbed his neck where traces of hangover still lurked. "Not like good honest Scotch."

"Ah, come on, Ray. You always get sloppy when you're drunk. Remember when you had a go at that American bourbon? Just as well it was only Murphy there last night."

"Have to give up getting sloshed, then," said Doyle despondently. "Forsaking all others... Well, forsaking all drink... You're never worth it!"

"Moderation, mate, that's the secret."

"Hah," Doyle snorted.

"Well, I can hold mine. I don't start snuggling up in company."

"You trust Murph, then? I don't. Today's obbo is going to be a right barrel of laughs."

"Got my reasons," said Bodie smugly.

The door of the VIP lounge was flung open by the object of their discussion, disgustingly bright-eyed and cheerful. "Morning, lovebirds. Quite recovered from St Paddy's, then? All ready for an honest day's toil? Oh, put your bloody gun away, Doyle!"

"Yeah, no need to get your strangulating jeans in a twist," Bodie agreed, tenderly wrenching Doyle's arm behind his back. "Murph knows we've all got things we'd like to be discreet about."

"Open book, my life," Murphy declared rashly, heading for the tea things.

"Open," Bodie agreed. "Of course, someone who always signs as M. M. Murphy - well, nothing to wonder about there, is there!"

Murphy stopped short, the kettle in his hand.

Doyle relaxed. "Always wondered about that," he admitted. "Murgatroyd? Melchizedek? Merriwether?"

"Look -- Bodie, if you've been sneaking into my private files I'll -- "

"Report us to Father, will you?" Doyle suggested.

"Spit it out, Murph," Bodie urged. "Just between us three, eh? Doyle would really like to know."

Murphy shrugged in pragmatic capitulation and sat down with his tea. "All right, it's Murphy," he said. 

"What, your first name?" Doyle said, surprised.

"My granny had a bee in her bonnet about her Irish ancestry. Never been there, mind, but said it was a family name and her granddad had proudly been Murphy Murphy and if it was good enough for him -- and if my dad wanted to be first in line for her savings when the time came - "

"Well, it's not that bad," said Doyle with a reproachful glance at Bodie. "A bit odd but nothing to slash your thumbs over." 

"M. M.," said Bodie.

"Not the middle name too? Well, still, it's - "

"Not Murphy," said Bodie with a grin. "Cough it up, then, Triple-M, and we'll have no more lovebird nonsense, will we?"

"Ah, Bodie, can't we just - ?"

"Sorry, Murph. No secrets from my better half."

"Here," Doyle said, suddenly making connections. "Irish ancestry? I knew a bloke when I was in the Met, they made his life a misery. Like a red rag to a bull. Poor sod could never live it down."

"Don't want your life made a misery, do you, Mary?" Bodie asked.

"It's nothing unusual over there," Murphy protested. "My granny - "

"I'm sure nobody over here will think twice about it," Doyle assured him.

"Look," said Murphy desperately, "honest, I wasn't going to say anything about - "

"Belt and braces," said Doyle. "Never hurts."

"All settled, then," Bodie said briskly. "I'll knock the golly unconscious when he starts doing his pissed as an amorous newt number - christ, Ray, don't DO that!"

"More like Siamese fighting fish," Murphy observed. "So, Bodie, why don't you ever use any of your first names?'

"Get me drunk again next Paddy Day and perhaps you'll find out."

"Glad my parents only gave me the one," Doyle said. "Makes life much simpler."

"Bodie! Murphy! Doyle!" came the irate summons from the other side of the door, and it was back to life as usual.


End file.
